Masquerade
by DreamsOfReality
Summary: We all have our stories to tell. Whether we whisper or yell. We all have our worries to hide, fears to bury deep inside. And masks, our acts – we have to mind. Broken, yet we stand, tall. Time and again. /Oneshot/


Title: Masquerade

Posted: Friday, March 8, 2014

Summary: We all have our stories to tell. Whether we whisper or yell. We all have our worries to hide, fears to bury deep inside. And masks, our acts - we have to mind. Broken, yet we stand, tall. Time and again.

A/N: Okay, I know this has been done before but…it was bothering me. The idea just wouldn't leave me alone. So here, I guess. Read and Review?

Disclaimer: I do NOT own –Man… *depressed*

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/ I wear my masks as I have done for as long as I remember. /

/ I lose myself inside my act, forget I'm a pretender. /

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Masks. They all had them. In fact, they probably wouldn't know how to live without them. It was almost as if…they lived a masquerade.

Let's just face it – they'd all suffered horribly. Their lives were shit. But even so, they'd all found something to keep them going. They were strong, each and every one.

There were times, when it felt like they would never win – never see the end of the long-lasting war. The helplessness was suffocating, dragging them down and leaving them to drown. Still, they never gave up. They couldn't, not when the fate of the world rested on their shoulders. So they stood by, watched, and fought on, even as their comrades died.

When they were pushed, they pushed back harder; when they fell they wasted no time, racing to get back on their feet. There was nothing else they could do. They were strong, yet they were weak. Just as humans tend to be. Everybody has their faults.

And as their masks began to define them – they started to lose track of who they really were. Were they their own people, or simply Central's pawns in the bloody game of war? It wasn't a question they could ask others to answer, but rather a problem they knew not how to solve on their own.

All that was left was hope. Hope, and fight. They had a duty to fulfill at any cost. There were, after all, exorcists. Obediently playing their parts.

Allen, the gentleman wearing the mask of Mana. Lavi, the genius acting the fool. Kanda, the stoic and aloof samurai…self-depreciating and cynical. Lenalee, Komui's perfect little sister, scared, so scared, of being left behind.

What remained hidden was their pain. Their pasts, and their fears.

- Allen -

He'd always been the unwanted one. 'Monster', they called him. 'Devil child.' All because of a supposed birth defect (which he'd never really believed – here was absolutely no way a glowing green cross was natural).

Shunned by his own parents and left to die. Sent to an orphanage, ostracized by everyone there. Made to undergo several 'exorcisms'. No one dared to come close. 'Red', they called him. He had no other name.

His first friend was a dog. A stray he'd come across after running away to join a travelling circus. Allen, that was its name. He loved it because it chose to stay with him, because it was the first to show him affection. But all good things had to come to an end. Yes, that particular belief had been affirmed and reaffirmed, many times over.

The dog died. Red refused to cry or show any outward sign of mourning. That was _weak_. Over and over, he'd tell himself 'the world is cruel', or 'such is my lot in life'. He'd become a rather cynical (perhaps even apathetic?) child. So time passed, and life went on. And there he was, alone again.

But then _he_ came. Mana. The easygoing clown that introduced Red to a new way of life. Together, they left the circus and its often abusive leader. They travelled around a lot – Red saw sights he'd only ever heard of. For the first time in his short life, he was enjoying himself. And for the first time, he had a name. Allen.

Then Mana too died. The loneliness that came with it was overwhelming. It hurt. This death hurt many times worse than Allen's. So he really couldn't be blamed for wishing his father back. Even if he'd chosen the absolute worst way to do so. Or so he tried to convince himself.

He'd unknowingly made Mana into an akuma. And Mana cursed him, not that Allen blamed the man for it. Till this day, his actions from that day haunted him. He should, therefore, be glad that his innocence had awakened and killed the newly formed akuma. Though seeing his left arm, his suddenly _clawed_ left arm, rip through his father figure was more than a little disturbing. And Mana's quiet 'thank you' was heartbreaking.

Still the world turned on its axis. While Allen sat there, at Mana's grave. Numb.

And that's where Cross found him. Cross, his master of sorts. The one that'd taught him about Innocence and the war between the church and the Millennium Earl. He'd taught the child, then promptly kicked him out. Threatening, cursing, and (Allen could barely make this out) telling him to go register himself with the Black Order. As an exorcist. An _exorcist_. _Him_. How ironic.

He made friends. He fought – winning some battles and losing others, struggling to become strong enough to protect those new companions and to save the pitiful akumas' souls. They said he had a martyr complex, but nothing could be further from the truth. He was just a scared teen – terrified of the thought of being left to face the cruel world by himself once more.

He was no longer the person he used to be. He was no longer Red, and had no intention of ever reverting back. But then who was he?

Allen. ALLEN. The exorcist. The one who chose not only to destroy, but also to save. The one that would walk on against on odds, always wearing the mask of Mana. Always the gentleman. He'd promised, after all. And Allen honored his promises.

- Lavi -

Bookman Jr. That was his title. And as a Bookman, he was fated to always be an observer – a recorder of history wherever it occurred. A neutral third party.

He'd never had a problem with that before. No, not before the Black Order. Not before Lenalee, Kanda, and Allen. His friends. Or were they? 'You're not supposed to be forming emotional attachments to anyone,' said a traitorous voice from the back of his head. Or was he the traitor, for wanting to betray the old man (panda)'s teachings?

And what was so special about the forty-ninth anyways? What was it about Lavi that made him so attached? Lavi, he was Lavi Bookman. But by the same rule, he was Deak, and all the rest of his previous personas. His overactive mind bothered him. It felt like it was trying to mutiny. And so instead, he chose to play the fool. He chose not to think.

"Yuu-chan~!"

- Kanda -

Lotuses. They were everywhere, filling his vision with soft colors. Reminding him of _her_. Her, and Alma, who had possessed her soul. Both of whom he'd lost. Both of who were dead.

He cursed. He cursed the damn flowers for bringing back memories, memories he'd rather never see the light of day again. The lotuses, the fucking _stupid_ second exorcist project, and himself – for being unable to keep her safe.

What was the point of him gaining this strength? What was the point of his advanced regenerative abilities? He couldn't even protect the one most important to him. The world could go burn, for all he cared. But what love he lacked she'd made up for. She'd loved the world with all its faults; humanity despite all its sins. So he would protect it, for her.

He'd protect the world that had damned them. Stupidly, and without question. For her. Everything he did nowadays was for her. He'd succeed, or this time he'd die trying. And he'd stay dead. Kanda Yuu had no lingering attachment to life. Not after everything he'd been through.

- Lenalee -

Family. Her family was the most important thing in the world to her. Was that wrong? Putting them above the world like that? Because she did, and always would. Given a choice, she'd always rush to protect her precious family, even if the world was falling apart around her. Because they were her world.

But now her world was falling apart. More and more were dying as the akuma continued to evolve. There was no end in sight. While the ones closest to her were still alright, Lenalee was scared. She had no illusions of invincibility – she'd fallen once already. She'd become a burden and she hated that. But that didn't mean she'd just give up. No, never. Not while her family was out there risking their lives. She'd protect her world with her own two hands.

_'Sorry, brother. I get it, I know that this is dangerous, that I can get hurt. But I can't afford to lose anyone close to me. Please understand. We live, we keep going, because we have each other to keep us from falling to despair. No one else, but each other. We are exorcists, and we're proud of it.'_

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A/N: Right, so what do you think? Good? Bad? Tell me, pretty please.

Till we meet again,  
DreamsOfReality


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